Hot Chocolate at Headquarters
by yellowcrayon7
Summary: Hermione can't sleep during the summer before OotP, and ends up having a bit of a heart-to-heart with an unlikely companion, Severus Snape. Could be SS/HG or just friendship. Fairly canon.
1. Chapter 1

**Takes place the summer before their fifth year, so between GoF and OotP. Friendship and a bit more, but nothing untoward. Could hypothetically be canon.**

**Disclaimer: It's all J.K.'s, not mine.**

Hermione Granger yawned, pulling her socked feet onto the dark leather couch beside her. The library at Number 12 Grimmauld Place was not the cheeriest of spots, but it was cozy and quiet. Here she could read uninterrupted late into the night while Crookshanks slept on her lap, purring gently.

So it was an utter surprise when hours after everyone had gone to bed, the door to the library creaked open. Hermione started at the sound and turned so suddenly she woke the cat. There in the dimly lit doorway was a familiar silhouette.

"Good evening, Professor Snape," she said, surprised. "When did you get here?"

"Moments ago. What are you doing?" He shrugged off a traveling cloak and draped it on the back of an armchair, narrowing his eyes critically at his student.

"Reading," Hermione replied nonchalantly, burying herself in her book again and absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks.

Snape huffed. "I can see that. Miss Granger, are you aware it is after two o'clock in the morning? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"It's summer!" she protested, turning to look at him with a slightly wicked smile. "What, were you going to give me detention or something?"

Snape collapsed a bit heavily into the armchair and she noticed he looked even paler than usual. "Clearly I cannot actually punish you, but I do strongly suggest you go to sleep now."

"Are you alright, Professor?" she asked hesitantly.

He glared at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just look… well, tired." She braced herself for the biting response, but to her surprise Snape just looked slightly amused.

"It happens my responsibilities are a bit more far-reaching than you would know, Miss Granger, in this current climate." He sounded bitter.

Hermione's eyes widened as she realized suddenly where he must have come from. There was a long pause, during which Crookshanks jumped down from her lap, sniffed suspiciously at Snape, and proceeded to curl up by the hearth.

"Oh," she said.

Snape smirked. "Have I rendered you speechless? I thought the day would never come…"

Hermione matched his smirk, but turned serious soon. "Do you need something? Shall I find Mrs. Weasley?"

"Gods no," he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as if pained by something.

Hermione lowered her voice the way her mother had taught her to do when speaking to the elderly or the gravely ill. "Can I do anything?"

"You can go away and leave me alone," he said, then with less of an edge than usual, as if he was too exhausted to argue, "Go to sleep, Granger." Here he opened his eyes, which were a bit brighter now, to look at her beseechingly. The color was coming back into his cheeks but he still looked worn out.

Hermione looked down at the her lap, distractedly brushing off cat hair, and replied quietly, "I can't." She looked up to see him examining her face, his expression unreadable.

After a moment, he said, "Hot chocolate?"

"What about it?"

Snape gritted his teeth, exasperated. "Do you want some?"

Hermione paused, a bit taken aback, half-expecting him to be joking. "Oh. Yes, please."

Without looking, the Professor gestured towards the door with his wand, and seconds later a tray came swooping into the room and settled itself on the table, where a kettle of warm milk began to pour itself into two mugs of chocolate. When the kettle was still, Hermione carefully took the mug closest to her and brought it to her lips, blowing the steam off before sipping. Her eyes slid closed at the rich, creamy taste. "Mmm. Thank you, sir."

"You're most welcome. Are you tired yet?"

She snapped her eyes open to scowl at him and found him similarly incapacitated by the first taste of chocolate. When he opened his eyes and registered her frown, he made a dismissive gesture with his arm. "Go upstairs. Insomnia's completely psychological, you'll get over it."

Hermione's frown melted and she took another long swig of cocoa, steeling herself. "It's not insomnia. I have nightmares."

"Ah. A common problem during wartime," he said with a pedantic air.

She looked up at him and said in a quiet, resigned voice, "That's what this is, isn't it, sir. War."

"Yes," he responded a bit too gruffly. Hermione set her mug down and buried her face in her arms. For a moment he thought she must finally be getting tired, but soon her shoulders began to shake slightly and he realized she was crying, albeit silently.

Professor Snape had little experience with crying teenagers. His own Slytherins were often too thick-skinned to be brought to tears during the school term, and any other student he dispatched immediately to his or her Head of House. As Minerva McGonagall was miles away, he cleared his throat a bit and moved to sit on the couch next to her. Unsure how to proceed, he patted her back awkwardly, which only seemed to make her cry harder, now sobbing audibly.

"Hermione," he began gently, but was cut off by a little gasp as she stopped crying suddenly, apparently shocked into silence by the use of her given name. She looked up at him, and despite her red, tear-streaked face, she appeared further from the incorrigibly annoying little girl he had first met than she ever had. He pulled a green silk handkerchief from a pocket of his robes and handed it to her. She took it with a mumbled, ragged sounding "Thanks," and began to dab at her tears.

He took a deep breath before speaking. "There is no doubt the coming years will be dangerous and stressful, and that our loyalties will be tested. There will be tragedy and fear."

Her eyes widened and looked about to brim with tears again, so he continued hastily, "But you are safe here, for the time being, as you will be at Hogwarts. While Albus Dumbledore is protecting you, I promise you that you cannot be harmed."

"What about my parents?" she said desperately. "How do I know they will be safe?"

"They must be intelligent enough to keep themselves under the radar, to have produced the likes of you," he said, and she reflected his playful grin. "It will be a long time before the Dark Lord reaches into the Muggle world, and by then we will be prepared. They will be protected."

Hermione nodded, pulling herself together. "What about you, Professor?"

"What about me?"

She met his eyes and saw for the first time the utter dark that was held there, the lonely depths of his soul. "You put your life in danger routinely. You suffer pain regularly. You do things I don't even want to think about in order to keep your cover. Who protects you?"

Snape was thrown by her concern, but touched nonetheless. "Miss Granger, I decided long ago that this fight is worth more than my life."

He expected her to cry again, or argue, but he did not expect the blazing look she gave him. "I think I know what you mean," she said, her voice finally steady. The lonely resignation she had found in his eyes resonated through her words, and the Potions professor found himself drawn to her unconsciously. He brushed her hair back and pulled her slowly to his chest, where she stayed for a moment, hands twined around his back.

Eventually she extricated herself from the hug and tried to hold back a yawn. "Alright, to bed with you," Snape said, slipping back into his cold professor persona.

Hermione stood and went to collect her familiar without complaint, but eyed him critically before leaving. "You ought to get some sleep too, Professor. You look dead tired."

Snape huffed, but stood as well and followed her up the stairs. At the landing where Ginny and Hermione's bedroom and the spare room were, he nodded to her briskly. "Goodnight, Miss Granger." 

"Goodnight, Professor," she said with a warm smile. "And thank you, sir, for everything."

He softened and returned her smile. "It was my pleasure."

With that he disappeared into the spare room and Hermione slipped into the room next door, where her bed waited, warm and soft. Ginny's breath indicated she was sleeping deeply. As Hermione pulled the covers over herself, she heard through the wall muffled footsteps, rustling fabric, and then a silky voice saying quietly, "_Nox_."

She grinned slightly as sleep overtook her, and the next room went silent. She suspected he would be gone come morning, and act as though nothing at all had happened once they got back to school, but she knew that neither of them would have nightmares tonight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: If I were one of the richest people in the world, I would have better things to do with my time. Just borrowing the characters for some hopefully in-character fun.**

Not two weeks after Hermione's "Melt Down" in front of Snape (she thought it deserved two capital letters), she found herself once again in the library long after dark, slumped on the couch with a pencil and a copy of the Times. Crookshanks rubbed against her ankles and went to wander among the bookshelves. When Professor Snape entered the room, neither was very surprised at the other's presence, but Hermione's eyes did narrow at her professor's slight limp as he walked to his customary armchair and sat down.

"I'm not going to ask if you're all right, because you won't give me a straight answer anyway," she said airily, not looking up from her page.

Snape smirked as he gingerly stretched out his leg. "Been reading up on rhetorical devices, have we?"

Hermione tilted her head to the side and appraised her professor. "Pericles' Funeral Oration. His use of praeteritio was inspiring."

"That part of our history which tells of the military achievements which gave us our several possessions, or of the ready valour with which either we or our fathers stemmed the tide of Hellenic or foreign aggression, is a theme too familiar to my hearers for me to dilate on, and I shall therefore pass it by," Snape recited, almost lazily.

Hermione couldn't help the smile that broke across her face, and before she could remember who exactly she was talking to, she blurted out, "How do you know so much about history?"

"I read, Miss Granger. I pay attention. And, unlike some of the more prominent members of our society, I care about the past and not repeating it." The last words had a bitter edge, and Hermione immediately knew who he was talking about.

"I'd like to see Fudge write a speech like that," she grumbled, then sighed and returned to her paper, tapping the pencil on her knee as she thought.

Snape peered over at her lap. "What is that you're doing?"

She showed him, but he looked ever more perplexed. "It's a Muggle pastime from Japan. A kind of logic puzzle called Sudoku."

"I see." His face broke into an unexpected smile. "I seem to remember you having quite the talent for logic."

She cocked her head to the side, confused for a moment. Then it hit her, and she burst out laughing. "Well," she said modestly, "It was a very elegant problem."

"It took Quirrell twenty minutes, and he drew all sorts of diagrams before he finally solved it. You were what, eleven?"

"Twelve," she corrected.

"Even still. The way I hear it you had it figured in less than ten minutes, all in your head. As much as I hate to dispense compliments, that was quite impressive," he continued, nodding at her approvingly.

"I was so relieved I got it right, you have no idea."

He answered quietly, "I think I have a bit of an idea."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Professor Snape, are you implying you would have been upset had I been poisoned?"

"No, that would have been a relief," he replied deadpan, "Had you chosen the wine by accident, however, I may well have been charged with furnishing a minor. Ruins a reputation." 

Hermione giggled. Snape's mouth twitched a bit, almost a smile, but he couldn't hide the grimace of pain as he adjusted his knee to a more comfortable angle. Hermione eyed him critically, not even looking as she wordlessly summoned something from the kitchen.

Two mugs, a kettle, and two pouches of cocoa mix clattered onto the coffee table, fairly gracefully considering students weren't due to learn wordless magic for another two years. He tried to cover his impressed expression with a sneer, but was distracted as something else zoomed out of the kitchen and settled beside the mugs, rattling a bit.

Snape picked up the bottle and read the label. "Motrin?" he asked, amused and disbelieving. "You do remember I'm a Potions master, yes?"

"And where exactly is your nearest Pain-relieving Potion, Professor?" She smiled innocently, and set to preparing the hot chocolate.

"Hmph," he said. He lifted his own wand and pointed up, there was a faint clinking as several small vials drifted from upstairs into his hand. "Right here, actually. They don't have much effect anymore, I'm afraid." Snape sighed heavily, tipped one pill into his hand, and after scrutinizing with more than a little distrust, swallowed it. He washed it down with the hot chocolate.

Hermione looked pleased, but he glared. "Alright, you fixed me. Happy?"

"Yes, sir," she responded with enthusiasm, taking a swig of her hot chocolate.

He half-rolled his eyes. "I can't help but noticing you're up quite late again."

"Are you asking why?" she said, teasing. He sneered.

"If you must know," she went on, "I've been keeping Ginny awake since I keep talking in my sleep. And, you know, occasionally screaming."

"I know." Snape looked at his hands folded in his lap.

Hermione frowned. "How?"

Snape took a deep breath. "Firstly, the walls in this house are remarkably thin."

Her eyes widened and she blushed with embarrassment before he continued, "Secondly, your young friend Miss Weasley asked me for a Dreamless Sleep potion yesterday, which she hoped to slip into your dinner."

Hermione gasped. "That little—wait, you didn't give it to her, right?"

Snape laughed airily. "Goodness no. She knows nothing about dosage, and her stealth leaves something to be desired. No, instead I told her I'd find a way to slip enough into your evening hot chocolate," he finished casually.

The effect was immediate. Hermione slammed the mug down and pushed it away, then met his eyes. The young witch looked furious. "You… you bastard!"

"Language, Miss Granger." He smiled pleasantly, sipping his own drink.

"How could you?" She stood now, and attempted to tower over him, but even seated he was quite tall.

Snape answered unconcernedly, "You drugged me first."

"I didn't drug you, I offered you medication!" Her hair seemed to swell even more from the electricity of her anger.

Snape stood in order to regain his significant height advantage. "Calm down, Miss Granger, it's completely harmless. There's occasionally some fatigue and—"

"Dizziness?" she interrupted.

"Yes, how did you – oh."

Hermione blinked rapidly, gazing up at her professor beseechingly as she began to sway slightly. He quickly steadied her with a firm hand on her arm, but she was turning pale. "Perhaps I should lie down," she said weakly.

"Good idea. Come, let's get you to your room before you lose muscle control."

"Before I _what?_" Hermione demanded. Without responding, Snape steered her gently towards the stairs.

At the first landing, she sagged against him slightly and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "I do apologize, Hermione," he said when she looked up, surprised.

"S'okay," she replied, head obviously still fuzzy. "How's your leg?"

Snape hadn't realized, but he was limping much less obviously. "I hate to admit it, but your primitive Muggle remedy seems to have done the trick."

"Ibuprofen's analgesic properties have been extensive… extensively… proven or something…" she sighed. "Whatever. You're still a bastard."

They had reached Hermione's door now, and his voice dropped to a whisper as he led her into the dark room and deposited her on the bed. "Five points from Gryffindor."

She giggled faintly, kicking off her shoes and pulling the covers over herself. "Next time just ask me to take the potion?" she mumbled, her eyes closed.

"Next time?" he questioned softly.

She made a quiet "hmph."

"Goodnight, Miss Granger," Snape whispered, folding down a flap of her comforter so her shoulder was covered.

Hermione had already nodded off. Professor Snape stood and left the room, quietly closing the door as he crept to the next room, soon to follow her into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.


End file.
